Of Sailors and Farmers

Did you know that sailing and farming have a lot in common? Both involve a lot of water, and the movement thereof (although, in sailing you’re ON the water and in farming you’re CARRYING the water). Both tend to develop your vocabulary of foul language. And both involve being careful of ropes, lest you be carried away, potentially to your doom.

I’m sure you’ve got an idea of what happened right about now. It’s a nice, overcast day, so I thought I’d bring out the weed-powered-weedeater, Buckbuck, and help the Grumpy Farmhand clear out the path to the Buck Run/GCFII. I set up the line where I wanted him to be, opened the gate to the run, and took Buck gently by the collar to lead him to the right spot. He’s so docile, this is usually enough to get him anywhere you need. However, I had FORGOTTEN he’d learned about the morning grain for the lady goats, and rather than following obediently, he took off like a big stinky shot with my hand still in his collar.

I managed to swing him around back to where I wanted him using his own force and clip the line to him. I did not, however, think about the fact that as I looped Buck around me, so too was the rope looping. I felt the braided line touch my calves, I saw the glint in Buck’s ridiculously wide gaze, and then I put a few things together.

Firstly, I swore. A lot. It wasn’t very creative swears, either, it was mostly like a frantic machine gun that had just learned a new word. Secondly, I wished that I had a barn/field camera, because I really wanted to be able to see what happened next. Thirdly, the rope closed around my legs, slapping my ankles together so quick they actually clacked (ouch), and then I toppled over to the ground, and Buck proceeded to drag me for about four feet as fast as he could go, til he reached the end of his rope. At that point, it unraveled from me and straightened.

If I were on a boat, I would have gone overboard. I was kinda mad about that thought. I wasn’t mad at Buck, though – he hasn’t got a mean bone in his body, and he probably didn’t even notice that he was pulling me. If you recall, he can actually walk through my legs, stand straight up, and carry me if he so desires. I’m really glad I have small goats.

So yeah. You can see in the photo the twisting motion I made in the dirt as Buck dragged me. My other leg is clean, but my hair is full of straw, sticks and goat poop, and these clothes are gonna need a wash. Oh well. Now my path is getting cleared, and I’m going to be looking into a camera system. I really don’t want to miss the next time I’m a dummy!


I will be frank. This is a video we took mid-chicken butchery. If you are gentle of heart or weak of stomach, you don’t want to watch it. However, if you can find humor in a headless chicken clucking, then you will probably enjoy watching me shove my hand in a bird.

I had the pleasure and privilege of sharing what (little) knowledge I have about how to process chickens with two local women, and it was a great time. I’m no expert by any means, but we walked through the steps from killing to cleaning up together and it made the experience much less scary than trying to figure it out alone. Also I made the chicken talk, even after it’s been dead for quite a while. That… was mostly unintended…